


Of Death's Glory

by prowlish (valkyrie_fe)



Series: tf_speedwriting's Spam Weekend [12]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Community: tf_speedwriting, Disturbing Themes, Gen, Gore, Revenge, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-17 07:10:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrie_fe/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A strong fuel pump was necessary of a medic, but even Knockout felt repulsed by the abominable mixture of flesh and circuitry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Death's Glory

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt(s): #12: grimaces / deformed faces

Normally, Knock Out would enlist a Vehicon into cleaning the medical bay.  _Especially_  after such a nasty operation. A strong fuel pump was necessary of a medic, but even Knock Out felt repulsed by the abominable mixture of flesh and circuitry that was Breakdown’s remains and Silas. Honestly, it took particularly awful desecration to spur anything resembling offense in his spark; Knock Out was almost impressed.  
  
Still, this was a personal operation, and any bot unfortunate enough to disturb the medic would get gutted in their own time.   
  
He transformed a gore-splattered saw into a clawed hand, which he reached into the depths of his partner’s chassis. Knock Out’s lip curled in disgust as he pulled out Silas’s head. Even without the dripping blood, oil, and shredded flesh -- not to mention the goo of his right eye dribbling down his cheek -- the human’s skin was marred with scars. “Even for a human, you’re ugly,” he informed Silas. A little smile curled on his lips.  
  
Knock Out stared at the ghoulish sight for a long moment. Normally heads made quite the trophy, but skinjobs already smelled terrible enough. He didn’t have any inclination to know the stink of rotting flesh.   
  
The memory of his good work would stick with Knock Out forever, though, and that was satisfactory enough. Knock Out smiled once more and tipped his head. “Until all are one,” he said, and disposed of the offending flesh.

 


End file.
